Trustaphobia
by Bryan Greenberg
Summary: Sam's thoughts from the explosion in the alley through her discussion with Jason in the pent house. Continuation of What's Past Is Present. Sam PoV.


**AN: **Thanks to Syph for convincing me that this wasn't pointless and for making me finish writing it.

**Trustaphobia**

"What are you doing?"

You see him and release a sigh of relief, his name on your breath.

"Jason."

And then everything goes dark. You have a vague sensation of being in the familiar warmth of his arms, but that's all there is. When you open your eyes, the flames and smell of smoke assure you that you haven't been out for very long.

His voice is soft, as though he's concerned. It's been so long since you've heard anything other than indifference or anger in his tone. Your breath catches and you have to stop yourself from reminiscing about a time when he regularly spoke to you in this soft tone; there's no time for that now.

As you blink your way into consciousness, he begins asking you what happened, who you meant to pull the gun on. He knows it wasn't aimed at him. You're glad he knows. Sometimes it feels like the remnants of your friendship are too far gone to be glued back together, and you're glad for any proof that they're not.

You shake off your disorientation, and with it your vulnerability, so you can begin to explain. You're being set up. Someone is trying to kill you. The rest can wait until you get out of the ally.

He moves toward the fire, looking around. You try to stop him; you don't want him caught in a second explosion. You don't think you could live with him getting injured or, unthinkably, killed by an explosive meant for you. His assurance that the first explosion was enough to kill you is small comfort. He has time to find the detonator and pocket it before you hear sirens, and the two of you have to move the conversation elsewhere to avoid the cops.

As you head towards the pent house, you begin to explain the circumstances leading up to this attempt on your life. You explain about your "break up" with Lucky, your work for Karpov, and how you began to suspect Jerry Jacks was involved. It takes until you're walking through the pent house doors for you to finish explaining.

He's giving you that look that says he thinks your plan was questionable from the start. He thinks you're in over your head, and as much as you know that's true, you're surprised he suggests calling the cops.

You sit down to tend to the cut on your leg while you explain to him why calling the police would be pointless. You never thought he'd need convincing on that point, but you can't really blame him for not wanting to be involved with your problems anymore. Not with the ugliness that's built up between you in the past two years.

You move your focus from the wound on your leg when you're satisfied that it's not in immediate danger of infection or severe bleeding, and you begin to un-strap the knife from your calf. You'd prepared yourself well for a violent encounter with Jerry, but you hadn't anticipated the explosion. Underestimating Jerry could have proved fatal, and you're beyond grateful that you're still alive.

You glance up as you remove the knife from your leg, wincing at the sting in your knee as your leg straightens a bit. Jason is staring at your leg with an expression that might have resembled veiled lust had you been brave enough to analyze it. You're explaining that you need to clear your name, that you had no choice but to meet with Jerry. There was no one coming to your rescue, and if saving yourself meant you had to put yourself in a dangerous situation or walk into what you knew could be a trap, that's what you had to do. Even after everything, he should know you well enough to know that.

You can't help but notice that even with all your history with him, a history that by all rights should have created an impenetrable wall of mistrust between the two of you, he takes your word about Jerry's involvement without question, something your boyfriend failed to do. You try not to think too hard about the fact that of the few people with whom you've discussed Jerry's involvement with Karpov, Lucky has been the least inclined to trust your suspicions

Jason may believe that Jerry is behind the drug smuggling, but he doesn't have any faith that you have any options left, but you know you didn't become the competent con you are by giving up on hopeless cases. If there's one thing you know how to do, it's exploit a man's ego. It's how you supported yourself and Danny for all those years. The pre-Jason, pre-Sonny, pre-Lila years. Pre-everything. You're not giving this fight up, and you're sure as hell not trusting the police when they already have all the evidence they need to put you away.

He mentions the fact that Karpov could be involved in the plot against you, that he could be the one that planted the explosives. You're aware, but that doesn't change your situation at all. You still need to clear your name, and you're still all you have to rely on. And you assume there's no way to know whether Jerry or Karpov plated the bomb. Jason suggests that's not entirely true, gesturing with the detonator he found in the wreckage that was meant to be you. He seems to be offering his help, and that just may be too scary to handle. You change the subject.

You ask how he happened to be in the alley right at that moment; the moment that allowed him to help you, save you, even. You couldn't have anticipated that this subject would be even harder to bare. He had to get away. Robin may have to go into an emergency C-section. Her little girl's life is still hanging in the balance. The name, her name, goes unsaid between the two of you, but you both know what you're talking about when you say it.

"That must have been intense for you."

You can both still feel the connection that will always be there when it comes to this particular loss. Lila. Yours eyes meet for a moment of perfect understanding before there's a knock on the door. Your heart begins to race when Jason motions for you to hide, whispering that he sees Jerry through the peephole. He can't possibly know you're here, can he?

You listen as Jerry warns Jason that you, "the former love of his life," might be coming to him for help soon. He's trying to put it all on you, ducking any connection he himself might have to the contraband drugs. He explains things Jason has to lose by helping you. A tentative peace, something you know is important to Jason, mob boss or not.

"I can't imagine that you'd risk to break the peace you've worked so hard to achieve for a cast-off girlfriend."

You're not sure why he keeps referencing to a past that seems so far away. He must have an angle, Jerry Jacks always does, but you can't quite put your finger on what that angle might be. You do know two things, though. Jerry Jacks doesn't know Jason very well if he thinks he wouldn't take that risk for anyone, former lover or not. Jason always does the right thing by his own, rigid moral code, and he saves people. He can't help it. You also know that you can't let him do it this time. Not for you. Because he does have too much to lose and so do you. You can't afford to trust him again, and you really can't afford to depend on him again.

You thank Jason for his help before beginning to dismiss any offered help. It takes some convincing; you knew it would. Jason's hero impulse is strong, even when it comes to you. He offers Spinelli's assistance in trying to connect the detonator to whoever tried to kill you today; you don't have any backup, he says. It's almost like he's worried about you, and you can't deal with that. You cut him off before he can offer any more help or concern.

"You know better than to try and stop me."

And he does.


End file.
